


World Spins Madly On

by idkhaylijah



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, F/M, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Pre-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Professor AU, Professor Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers Feels, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, slight AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-17
Updated: 2019-05-16
Packaged: 2020-03-06 15:52:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18854218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idkhaylijah/pseuds/idkhaylijah
Summary: Written for thatfanficstuff's 1500 challenge on TumblrI got Professor AU and chose Steve Rogers - only slight AUSteve Rogers takes an intel mission after the snap to get close to Y/N and fulfill a promise he made a long time ago.





	World Spins Madly On

He hadn’t intended on staying.

It had been weeks since the snap. Weeks since he had failed, since he watched his friends disappear right before his eyes.

And it hadn’t just been the battlefield.

The world had gone dark, quiet... _empty._

Empty was exactly how he had felt. It was how they had all felt. There was no fixing it. No replacing what they had lost.

And they had lost _everything._

But life went on, time moved forward, and just like he had done when they pulled him out of the ice, he kept moving. It was the only thing he knew how to do. If he stopped it all came crashing down around him, suffocating him, and he couldn’t afford that.

He hadn’t intended on staying. 

He had meant only to check in on her, make good on his promise, and move on.

Instead he had found himself watching her, entranced by the way she moved. His world had flipped on its axis once more, and for the first time in a long time he felt hope. He couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was about her, but he held onto it, and the idea of that hope being ripped away from him was too much.

He was so tired of loss.

So he had stayed. At first it had been for a few days, waiting for his moment, but then Nat called with an assignment.

_“How do you feel about teaching?”_

He was grateful for the distraction, though he was sure his skill set was being wasted on this mission. S.H.I.E.L.D. had fallen apart since the snap, agents struggling to rebuild without their commanding officers, and Captain America being a fugitive was the last thing on their mind, so he took it.

He knew Nat threw him a bone, giving him the opportunity for an easy assignment gathering intelligence. He was sure the position of interim history professor at the college where _she_ attended as a senior was no coincidence. Nat was observant, and giving him a chance to do what he came to do. He didn’t fight it though, needing life to slow down, at least for a little while.

It was an easy get in, get out job - but she had walked through the door to his classroom and he was ruined.

And so a week’s intel mission turned into a month, which rolled into two. 

Two months in, and what was left of his team wasn’t pushing him, though they chatted weekly - if nothing else to remind each other they weren’t alone. The calls always ended the same, that there was nothing new, but they’d keep hoping.

And the more time he spent with her, the easier he found it to be hopeful. To keep moving. He let his mind wander to her, instead of the dust that haunted him. He thought of her eyes, the way the Y/E/C of her irises danced when the sun hit them just right. He thought of the blush that would creep up her neck, and he found himself wanting to know just how far down it went, feeling the guilt settle into his stomach like iron.

She was technically his student, and even if it was temporary, she was still so young. She would be graduating college in just a few months and had her whole life in front of her while he was so tired from the weight of it all. Even so, it didn’t change the fact that she-

“Professor Rogers?” A soft voice pulled him from his thoughts. He jerked his eyes up to his office door to find a girl he vaguely recognized from his class. She rapped her knuckles on the door frame as an afterthought, blushing furiously under his gaze.

He was not unfamiliar with the way women reacted to him, though he never seemed to get used to it. He swallowed, clearing his throat, trying to ignore the way she batted her lashes. “Yes, Miss….” he trailed off realizing he didn’t remember her name.

“Please,” she giggled. “Call me Allie.” She shifted further into the room, placing her books on the edge of his desk to reveal her tight shirt, leaning forward so her cleavage was on display.

He averted his gaze, busying himself with a stack of papers he was trying to get through. Paperwork, as it had turned out, was not his forte. “What can I do for you, Allie?” He asked politely.

She bit her lip, leaning further in until her perfume clouded the area, a sharp overly-floral scent filling his lungs and burning his nose. “I was just hoping for some one on one tutoring,” her lashes fluttered, and she pushed her arms together, accentuating her chest. “I could really use the help... _Captain,_ ” she added flirtatiously for good measure.

He stifled a cough, wondering if it would be too obvious if he stood to open a window and let the room air out. Deciding he’d wait, and he had faced worse, he smiled up at her. “Of course,” he quickly grabbed a pen and scribbled down some information on a pad of paper, tearing it off and handing it to her. “Tutoring is available on Tuesdays and Thursdays in the library, but you have to make an appointment, so be sure to check in with the librarian to see which tutors are available.”

Her face fell and she stood, straightening her shirt and taking the paper from his hands. “Right…” she mumbled, grabbing her books and storming out.

He leaned back in his chair, sighing in relief. Dodging bullets was something he knew.

“Ugh, open a window.”

He sat up, smiling at the familiarity of her voice washing over him. “Y/N,” he stood. “What are you doing here?”

She ignored his question, dropping her bag in an empty chair and crossing the small room to open a window. “Let me guess, Allie?”

He chuckled. “How did you know?”

“Please, the stench of her perfume can be followed all the way from the library,” she joked. “So she finally made her move, huh?”

He shrugged. “She was looking for tutoring.”

Y/N laughed at that, tucking her Y/H/C hair behind her ears. She cocked her head, studying him, and he was sure she could see everything - every inappropriate thought he had since meeting her, the guilt he felt at his ever growing feelings, the tiredness he felt at fighting them. He was sure just by her looking at him she had stripped his layers away and saw it all.

“Here in 2019, that’s called flirting,” she teased.

He nodded sarcastically. “Very funny,” he groaned as she once again pointed out their age difference.

She turned to look out the window, her face falling slightly. “I was just wondering if I could eat lunch in here?” She asked.

It wasn’t uncommon. He had become a mentor to her, which had blossomed quickly into an easy friendship. They often shared lunch, at first under the pretense of discussing history, which quickly turned into sharing their experience in the After.

He learned that she had lost her family and a boyfriend, and he shared about his failures. She was quick and confident in her reassurances that he was a hero, that he had done everything he could, and sometimes he even tried to believe her. He let her words sink into him, replaying them in his darkest moments when he’d wake and try to shake the memory of the dust away.

Their talks had started out weekly, which turned into two or three times a week. He cursed himself for never finding the right moment to tell her. He should have told her when he had seen her that first day, she deserved to know and he had made a promise.

But as time went on he found it more and more difficult, the words dying in his throat as new words tried to force their way out.

I want you. I need you.

This week she had been by every day. He glanced at the clock hanging on the wall behind her, leaning back to sit on his desk and crossing his arms. “It’s a little late for lunch,” he commented.

She shrugged. “Early dinner?”

God, just the thought of being able to take her to dinner was exhilarating. He wished he could ask her. “I’m sure you have something much better to do on a Friday night,” he said instead.

She laughed sadly at that. “Today would have been my dad’s birthday,” she explained. “I just didn’t want to be alone.”

He stiffened at the mention of her father, swallowing thickly. “Y/N….”

She turned to him, her eyes glossy. “It’s okay,” she forced a smile. “I should get going. Have a nice night.”

She picked up her bag and rushed out of the room as he watched her go. Even after she was gone, he watched the space she had left, waiting for her to come back in. Wishing he could chase after her, knowing it was best to let her walk away.

He tried to work the rest of the day, his mind racing with thoughts of her. Deciding it was useless, he sighed heavily, packing his own things up and heading out for the night.

*****

He didn’t cook. It seemed pointless to cook when it was just him, and he was just so damn tired. He missed home. Missed Nat, missed Banner. He missed Thor.

Hell, he’d even take the racoon at this point.

He wandered the city streets, searching for a place to eat and resolving himself to ending his stint as a Professor first thing Monday morning.

He stepped into an Italian restaurant he had discovered the first week he was in town. It was a family owned hole-in-the-wall, quaint and homey.

The hostess greeted him with a sad smile. “Just one?” She asked. They had served a lot of tables for one recently.

He smiled tightly at her, but before he could answer his eye caught a table in the corner. “Actually, my party is already here, thank you,” he said before crossing the room.

“Y/N,” he greeted, drawing her attention from her menu.

She looked up, startled, her eyes red rimmed and glossy. She wiped underneath of them with the sleeve of her sweater, taking a deep breath and plastering on a smile. “Professor Rogers, hi,” her voice was laced with question.

He shrugged. “One of my favorite spots,” he offered. He gestured toward the chair across from her. “May I?”

She shifted in her seat. “Yeah, of course,” she nodded.

He took a seat and they sat in awkward silence for a few minutes, both unsure of what to say. Outside of the classroom or his office was unfamiliar territory.

The waitress brought wine and took their orders as the silence stretched on. Y/N picked at her napkin, shredding the edges into strips until it was almost gone.

He thought it was better to not acknowledge the fact that she had been crying, figuring the less he knew the less he’d want to pull her into his arms, but that didn’t last long. “Do you want to talk about it?” He asked.

Her lip trembled and a tear fell down her cheek. He offered her his own napkin, which she smiled at before dabbing under her eyes. “I just miss them, you know?”

He nodded. He knew all too well. Without thinking he reached across the table, placing his hand on top of hers. He took in a deep breath at the contact, stilling as he felt the warmth of her delicate hand beneath his calloused fingers.

She froze for a moment and looked down at their hands, the pink tint he had come to adore crawling up the skin of her neck, but recovered quickly. “I'm sorry, I’m a mess,” she took a deep breath, pulling her hand out from under his and throwing her head back as she centered herself.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” he reassured her.

She shook her head and when she tilted her chin back down she looked more relaxed. “Nope, no more crying for me tonight,” she chuckled. “So tell me, what big plans does a professor have on a Friday night?”

The laugh that escaped him was self deprecating and he ran his hand over his beard before throwing his arms up. “You’re looking at it, I guess.”

She made a show of wincing. “So sad and pathetic,” she teased.

“It is, isn't it?” He looked around at the empty restaurant.

She smiled at him, and his heart lifted, the weight of the world that rested on his shoulders a little easier to bear for a moment.

“Beats sitting in my apartment grading papers,” he offered.

She pressed her lips between her teeth, holding back her laughter.

“What?”

She shook her head in amusement. “Just the idea of Captain America grading papers,” she snickered. “It’s a little ridiculous when you actually stop and think about it.”

He smiled at that. “I feel ridiculous,” he admitted.

“Don’t, you’re an excellent history teacher.”

“Thank you,” he nodded.

“Of course it helps that you were there,” she jabbed.

He clutched his chest, feigning hurt. “Ouch!”

“Oh come on, big, strong Steve Rogers hurt by little ol’ me?”

He smirked, his eyes falling to his lap. He shouldn’t feel pride that she thought of him as big and strong, but how she saw him mattered - whether he wanted it to or not.

The waitress broke the moment, bringing their food out, which they were both quick to dive into. They made easy, light conversation, and Steve imagined it was exactly how a date would have gone.

It was the best non-date he had been on, and it was ending all too soon.

He offered to walk her back to her apartment under the guise of being a gentleman and making sure she got home safely, but if he were honest his motives were selfish. He just wanted to be in her atmosphere a little while longer.

When he got to her doorstep they lingered. He rocked on the heels of his feet, his hands in his pockets as her laughter trailed off.

“Thank you,” she said when she turned the key.

He smiled tenderly. “Of course,” he said. _We’ll do this again_ , he wanted to promise.

She was about to head inside, when she caught him by surprise, turning and leaning up on her toes, throwing her arms around his neck. Before he could react her mouth was on his.

Her lips were soft and smooth - and so much better than he had imagined.

She pulled back just as quickly as she had kissed him, her hand moving to cover her mouth, her eyes wide in shock.

Steve stood, frozen on her doorstep. He wanted to open his mouth, to say something - _anything_. But he was so afraid he’d ask to come inside.

Or worse, he would tell her all the reasons it was a bad idea and she’d walk away.

Instead he stood there dumbstruck.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” She gasped.

He shook his head, but before he could form a clear thought she disappeared with a promise to forget it ever happened and a slam of her door.

He wasn’t sure how long he lingered on her doorstep, but when he went home he dreamt not of a snap and the dust, but of her lips.

*****

Monday morning came, and Steve paced the classroom, waiting for the first class to come piling in.

Waiting for her.

She came in at the last second, her head down and made her way toward the back of her room, sinking into her seat and avoiding his gaze.

He did his best to conduct a lecture, but his mind was reeling, so instead he offered a pop quiz, letting students leave as soon as they were done.

Y/N was one of the last few to remain, her pencil working furiously over the page, her eyes darting to the clock. He knew she was trying to get out of there quickly, but she also cared about her grade.

He didn’t give a damn about the quiz.

She dropped her pencil, grabbing her bag and slinging it over her shoulder as she made her way toward his desk. She slipped her answer sheet wordlessly onto the pile, but before she could get out the door he called after her.

“Miss Y/L/N, I’d like to speak to you in my office, please.”

She froze on the spot, her eyes finally meeting his, and he recognized the fear that flitted across her features. “I have another class after this,” she explained.

He nodded. He knew her lunch hour was free. It was always free. Free for him. “I’ll see you at 12:30,” he said, leaving no room for argument.

*****

When she knocked on his door, it was so timid he almost didn’t hear it.

“Come in,” he said.

She stepped inside, careful to leave the door open, he noted. “Hi.”

He stood and stepped around his desk, taking a breath. “Close the door,” it was a question, not a command, and she pushed it closed gently.

She dropped her bag, her eyes holding a hint of anger. “Is it true?” She asked.

So she had heard.

He crossed his arms over his chest as he leaned back onto his desk, the answer in his eyes.

“So you’re leaving? Just like that?” Her eyes burned with tears she refused to shed, but the anger that they held faded quickly into hurt. “I’m sorry,” she blurted. “I don’t know what came over me. It was stupid and ridiculous and oh my god, so humiliating and I’m sorry.”

“Y/N…”

She crossed the room to him, just out of his reach, and he balled his hands into fists at his side, aching to touch her. “Please,” she begged. “Can we please just forget it ever happened.”

He slammed his eyes shut. He reminded himself of all the reasons he couldn’t have her, and shared the least of which. “Y/N, you’re my student.” He wasn’t sure if he was trying to convince himself or her.

“I know, and I take full responsibility. Please stay. Just forget it...”

“I can’t forget it!” He blurted, his ocean eyes crashing in waves as he finally met her gaze.

She froze, swallowing nervously, unsure of what it meant.

He sighed, taking a step closer. “I have to go,” he offered half heartedly, his gaze darkening.

She took a step towards him, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth. “Please stay.”

He shook his head, but advanced another step towards her.

She thought for a moment, as if realizing her next movement would change everything. A step away from him and she’d likely never see him again - but towards him…

She moved into him and he crashed his lips into hers, desperate to taste her. She reacted immediately, pushing up onto her tiptoes as he dipped down, wrapping her arms around his broad shoulders. His hands found her waist, squeezing there in a chivalrous attempt to keep them from roaming.

His tongue traced across her soft lips, begging for entrance and when she opened up to him he couldn’t help the groan that escaped.

She moaned in response, pressing her body into him. She ran her hands through his hair, as his own trailed up her sides until they rested along her face.

He pulled back as they gasped for air, and she relaxed into her stance, her heels finding the ground beneath her once more. “We shouldn’t,” he began.

But she had been done with thinking, so she kissed him to silence him, and he quickly got lost once more.

He turned them around, pushing her up onto the desk and gently nudging her legs apart so he could stand between them, pressing against her center.

Her hands rested along his chest and she ground her hips against him, shooting pleasure straight up his spine. He nipped, pulling her bottom lip between his teeth before tracing his tongue across it.

She pulled him into her, impossibly close, and he tugged at her waist, hating the barriers between them. His thumb traced just under her shirt. His rough, calloused fingers against the smooth skin of her sides sent shivers up her spine.

It wasn’t enough, and so she reached under his shirt, letting her soft hands dance along the muscle beneath them. She wrapped her legs around him, caging him in as she leaned back. Her Y/H/C hair fanned out along the papers that scattered his desk. He followed her movements, leaning down over her, knocking his desk lamp to the floor in the process.

He stilled his movements, the crash of the lamp pulling him back to reality and reminding him of exactly why he shouldn’t be doing this. He stood, distancing himself from her, an apology already on his lips as she sat up.

Her hair was a mess, her lips kiss swollen as she tugged her shirt back down. Her cheeks were tinged pink, and he wondered what he was doing.

_But god was she was beautiful._

He averted his gaze and looked at their surroundings. He slammed his eyes shut, pinching the bridge of his nose. She deserved better than being taken on a desk in a dusty, old office.

“Was it something I said?” She asked, an attempt to lighten the mood.

He smiled softly, dropping his hands and meeting her gaze. “Y/N, you’re my student,” he reminded her.

She nodded, hopping off the desk and sauntering towards him. “For the rest of the day.”

His jaw clenched, because she was right. He wasn’t staying, and even if he had, she would be graduating in the summer - but it didn’t matter.

She stepped into him, crowding his space and running her hands along his chest. His hands shot up to grip her wrists and still her movements, and he pressed his forehead against hers.

“I want you,” he confessed with a whisper. The words he had been holding in for weeks left and took the weight of them with it. He let out a shaky breath.

She smiled, pecking a kiss on the tip of his nose. “I want you, too, Professor Rogers,” she whispered.

He groaned. “Steve,” he corrected, leaning back to look her in the eyes. If they were going to do this he couldn’t handle any extra guilt, and he didn’t need to be reminded she was a student.

She beamed. “Steve,” she said, trying it out.

He liked the way his name rolled off her tongue - _loved it_. “God, I want you,” he said again.

She leaned up, eager to continue where they left off, but he stopped her.

“Not here,” he glanced around the room. “Not like this.”

Her lips formed an O and he wondered if she knew just how serious he was, what the weight of what they were doing meant.

He was all in, he had been from the moment he saw her, but that meant he had to tell her the truth.

“Have dinner with me,” he said before he could stop himself. “Tonight, at my place.”

She smiled shyly, the blush he was so eager to trace with his fingers returning, and she tucked her face into his chest.

He brushed her hair back from her face with his hands, tilting her chin up so she looked at him.

“Okay,” she said with a grin.


End file.
